


Baby Steps on Broken Glass

by sadstone_writes



Series: Celestial Steel [4]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Marvel, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mentions of Violence, Other, Sort Of, they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadstone_writes/pseuds/sadstone_writes
Summary: Officially cleared from the medbay, Lane temporarily moves into the mansion and interacts with its residents while pondering their next move.*Edit - title change (formerly known as The Kids Will Be Alright, Eventually)
Relationships: Piotr Rasputin/Original Character(s)
Series: Celestial Steel [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722172
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

“So, how does it feel to be out of prison?” Wade called back as he walked several steps ahead of Lane. 

They were being led down one of the many long hallways (how big was this place?) towards what the professor had called ‘temporary quarters’ - a spare bedroom on the staff hall, for as long as they wanted to stay. Lane was grateful for that, but part of them wished that they could have been transferred in a more...discreet way. Still, they were glad for Wade’s company, even if he did have a tendency to make them want to melt into the floor. 

“Can you not say that so loud?” Lane hissed, hugging themself to the walls as a large crowd of children barreled down the hallway. 

A few sets of eyes lingered and they pressed tighter to the wood paneling until the group passed and the noise faded. It was nice to be out of the medbay, no doubt about that, but the sudden influx of people - and colors, and sounds, and smells - had Lane’s head reeling. 

External stimuli, as the professor had explained it, would be difficult to process for a bit until they got used to their new surroundings; he had done the best he could to prepare them, but that hadn’t made it any less daunting. Everything was too bright, loud noises still made them jump, and they had to resist the urge to flinch every time a foreign body brushed up against theirs. For now, all they could do was focus on the red of Wade’s uniform as he marched forward.

“I’m just saying, in that outfit you look like a side character from Orange is the New Black.” He said, turning a corner and trotting up a flight of stairs.

He had a point. Lane was wearing a set of matching grey sweatpants and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the school’s logo, and a pair of canvas slip ons. Again, better than the hospital gown they had been wearing, but it still left something to be desired.

The stairs opened up onto a large landing, splitting off into another pair of long hallways. Lane’s steps were muffled by ornate carpets that lined the hardwood floors, their reflection cast back on them from glass cases stuffed full of plaques and awards. Lane quickly averted their eyes as Wade stopped in front of one of the solid oak doors. 

“Should be this one. Presidential Suite numero-”

Wade swung open the door and Lane found themself face to face with a new figure - silvery hair, a branched scar on his left cheek, and a metal arm. His face was gruff, a frown on his features and an overall aura of ‘don’t get mess with me’ that radiated off of him in waves. He stared down Lane, and Lane found themself suddenly very interested in their shoes. 

“Oh shit, you guys haven’t been properly introduced!” Wade exclaimed, pushing past the figure and into the room. He was unfazed by the other man’s sour expression. “Lane, Cable. Cable, Lane.” 

“Hi.” Lane greeted meekly, gingerly stepping around this new man to join Wade.

“Hi.” Cable replied. There was a pause, and he cleared his throat. “Sorry I shot you...before.”

“No, it’s okay. I can’t really remember so…” Lane trailed off, looking at anything but his face. Cable cleared his throat and hefted some plastic bags up into their field of vision. 

“Know how hard it is starting over, we thought maybe you could use some supplies. We weren’t really sure what you’d like but we got the basics - toothpaste, deodorant, a few changes of clothes.” Cable explained, “we had to guess on the sizes too, so they might be a little big.”

“We?”

“Oh, yeah, I helped. If it was up to him everything would be various shades of black and beige with bloodstains as accents.” Wade piped up, catching a bag that Cable deftly threw at his head. 

“Better bloodstains then cum, shitstick.” Cable retorted.

Their banter fell into the background as Lane observed the space. The room was plain but cozy- a bed that faced the center of the room, a nightstand beside it, and a dresser and a closet on the opposite wall. On the far wall opposite the doorway was another door, which Lane assumed was the bathroom. 

“You’re lucky you’re in the staff hall, students have communal bathrooms. Lost my virginity in one of those.” Wade commented, but Lane wasn’t really paying attention.

The rest of the walls were bare, but on the far wall was a large window that Lane found themselves drawn to. Looking out to see a sprawling expanse of green - trees, hedges, a lawn. Something so mundane that felt so foreign to them as they watched the limbs sway in the breeze. Birds. Kids running in the grass, playing and hollering at the top of their lungs. Lane squinted and then turned away. Their eyes were watering.

“You alright?” Cable asked, his tone one of concern. 

“M’fine.” Lane swallowed, rubbing their sleeve against their eyes. “It’s just...brighter than I’m used to.” 

Cable and Wade exchanged a look, and Cable suddenly headed towards the door.“I have a few more bags in the car,” he announced over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

The door shut behind him; Wade sat onto the bed and put his hands on his knees. “So, look, baldy probably mentioned this to you, but you’re not exactly going to just be able to go where you please for a little while. Which sucks major ass, but since we’re in  _ their _ house for the time being, I can’t really complain about it too much.”

Lane nodded. “He mentioned something like that. Social interaction with staff members, maybe some of the upperclassmen.”

“Chaperones at a high school dance.”

“C’mon Wade.” Lane shrugged. “I mean, I get it. I’m not exactly...y’know, safe I guess. You heard about what happened in the medbay.” 

“Yeah, I did. I heard you almost beat up shiny Jesus. Again.”

Lane flushed a light pink and shook their head. “It wasn’t like that. I mean, it kinda was but...I think I can start to get back to normal here. Or, y’know, as normal as I can be with this.” Lane held their hands out, starry palms extended to make their point. 

“Puh-lease.” Wade scoffed. “What’s so good about being normal? The people here are so normal that their bowel movements can be timed like clockwork.” 

“Learning how to properly cope with debilitating PTSD would be nice.” 

“Touche.” Wade replied. “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to express all your feelings in one of their sharing circles-slash-orgies.” 

“Can you just...tell me what your issue is with them?” Lane huffed, crossing their arms and looking back towards the window. Frustration was beginning to boil over, and their fists clenched into the fabric of their sweatshirt. “You’ve had a bone to pick with them ever since I got here, but all they’ve done is help us. Help  _ me _ . What’s up with that?” 

“Because -” Wade chewed his lip between his teeth. “Because these people are sticklers for rules, okay? By the book, cut and dry, no room for people like…us.”

“Like us?” Lane furrowed their brow, only to have it fall with the realization. “Oh.”

It was difficult for their brain to comprehend that they had taken a life while under mental reconditioning; probably more than one, now that they thought about it. Part of them knew that it really wasn’t them, not acting of their own free will. But the other, more guilt-ridden part made the point that still, they were the one with blood on their hands. Most of the details were hazy, thank goodness for small miracles, but it was a point that Lane had been trying not to dwell on. Their stomach had a habit of tying itself into knots if they thought about it too long. 

“It’s a dick thing to mention and I didn’t even want to bring it up,” Wade shook his head. “Cause, really,  _ you _ aren’t like  _ me _ , but some of them are always going to see you like that no matter how hard you try to change. Behind all this mutant togetherness stuff, they’re still people, and people can really suck a fat one sometimes.”

“I seem to recall that.” Lane murmured, taking a seat on the mattress next to Wade. They weren’t naive by any means, but there was something disheartening about his words and the brutal honesty behind them. Part of them appreciated that honesty, but the other part felt a dull sting where his words had pierced their expectations. 

“And I’m not saying that’s going to happen to you, you have the advantage of not looking like a testicle with teeth.” Wade continued, his tone slightly less dour. He scooted over a bit to make room and then let his back hit the mattress. Sprawling on the bed, he looked up at them. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is you don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. Nobody can tell you what to do anymore, okay? Nobody. And I don’t want any of these X-dorks to make you think otherwise if shit starts to hit the fan. I have an air mattress and a roommate with a mild cocaine addiction that both have your name on them.”

“I appreciate that.” Lane replied, mimicking Wade’s position on the mattress and laying back into the bed. “It’s not going to be easy, that’s for damn sure.” 

“Healing never is, and take that from a guy who heals for a living.”

“But...I think I want to try this. Maybe for a month or two, at least. The Professor said he’s still going to work with me, maybe bring in some specialists -” 

“Ah, the world’s greatest superpower.  _ Money. _ ” Wade interjected.

“Point is I think I owe it to myself to try to get better.” Lane said, “if only as a punishment for all this shit I did. Cause it’s gonna suck rehashing it all over again. Remembering all the bad pieces that I don’t want to remember.”

“You ever want a break from it, you know who to call.” Wade said, holding up his hand next to Lane’s. 

“You mean if I ever want to get in trouble?” Lane smirked, grabbing his hand with their own and holding it tightly. A handshake _ a la  _ Schwarzenagger - mutual understanding of the unspoken, shit-stained reality Lane now found themself in.

“Only the best kind.” 

Lane let go of his hand and looked up at the ceiling, feeling the softness of the comforter beneath them and the jostling movement as Wade sat up. 

“I’m gonna go find Cable, you gonna be okay by yourself for a bit?” He called from over by the doorway. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna be here, think some things over.” 

The door shut. Lane blinked and adjusted their position on the bed, drawing a pillow underneath their head and letting their mind go blank for the first time all day. And yet, they couldn’t get comfortable. The plush bedding was more like a bed of nails, every nerve in their body taught as piano wire. Relaxation, peace, these were foreign concepts to Lane’s body; it was only once they had stopped moving that they realized how uncomfortable they were standing still. 

“Fuck it,” they murmured, grabbing one of the plastic bags that Cable had thrown into the room and disappearing into the bathroom. 


	2. Chapter 2

Lane had showered in the dark, standing in the stream until their fingers were pruny. They avoided looking at the mirror and had fumbled to pull on some of the new clothes that Wade and Cable had provided. Now they sat on the bed staring out the window, until there was a quick knock at the door. 

“Lane? It’s Ororo, I wanted to come check on you.” 

Lane cracked open the door to see the gorgeous face of Ororo Munroe, one of the staff members that had come to visit them while they had been in the medbay. A bright smile that was matched only by her bright white hair, Ororo had a way of lighting up a room wherever she went. Lane didn’t read her as a threat exactly, more like an unknown entity. They had heard some of the other staff members call her ‘Storm’, so Lane could only guess how dangerous she actually was. Fully opening the door, Lane took a step back and let Ororo into the room. 

“How are you settling in? Do you need any sort of supplies or clothes? We can make a run to the mall later in the week, or maybe if we just figured out your sizes…” She trailed off, looking over Lane’s form. “We could find you some clothes that fit.”

Lane looked down at their outfit, then back to Ororo’s. The white-haired woman was dressed casually, a colorful cardigan over a nice blouse, enough to combat the slight chill in the air for mid-November while still looking professional. 

In comparison, Lane’s form was hidden in a mass of baggy material; a thick, black pullover with sleeves that reached past their fingers, paired with loose sweatpants that they had rolled at the ankles to keep from tripping. They looked utterly unassuming, boring even, and this gave Lane some small amount of comfort; the less eyes on them, the better. The socks on their feet were the only spot of color - fuzzy with an orange pumpkin on each foot - and were undoubtedly Wade’s pick of footwear. 

“Lane, I know how easy it is for me to say this, but you don’t have to hide. This is the one place where nobody is going to judge you based on appearances.” Ororo said, her tone nurturing and warm, but still making Lane bristle slightly. 

“No - I know that. And I appreciate what you’re trying to say but...this is for me.” Lane swallowed, averting their eyes and curling their fingers into their palms. “I feel more comfortable like this.”

“Well, alright.” Ororo finally said after a long pause, “but if you get uncomfortable, just let me know, okay? We don’t want you overheating on the tour.” 

“Tour?”

“It’s customary for all new arrivals, but if you’re not feeling up to it we could do it another day.”

“No,” Lane murmured, the thought of sitting alone in their room for much longer becoming maddening. “I’m up for it.” 

“Great! Well, let’s just start in this hall, shall we?” Ororo stepped out of Lane’s room and back into the hallway. “These are mostly staff and guest quarters. Jean and Scott are down the hall on your right, I’m across from them on the left. Pete’s right across from you, and Logan is beside him-”

“Pete...Piotr?” Lane questioned.

“Yes, right across the hall. Is that going to be okay with you? If you’re not comfortable we can move you further down.”

“No, no that’s...fine. Totally fine.” Lane replied, trying to brush it off. It had been two weeks since their last episode down in medbay, and that was the last time they had seen Piotr. They would have been lying if they didn't sometimes catch their thoughts drifting towards him in the in-between moments of peace between the sessions with the Professor and Jean. Was he upset with them? Had come to his senses after seeing their outburst? Lane hadn't dared to ask Wade, knowing it would lead to endless teasing from the merc. So, they had pushed the feelings to the side, resolving to deal with it later. “Totally cool.” 

Ororo’s tour took them down the halls of the mansion, past the student wings and the classroom lecture halls, then into the kitchen. One of several, Ororo pointed out, all the better to fit the needs of more nocturnal students. There were several rec rooms and reading nooks, study halls and workrooms where students lounged or worked on projects as they passed by. A large library caught Lane’s attention, but they quickly walked past it to keep up with Ororo. 

Xavier’s was primarily built for students middle school aged and up, right around when the X-Gene would manifest itself. There were several special cases of younger students needing assistance, and there were special classrooms and dormitories just for that. Classes were built around state curriculum with special attention to topics like human rights, philosophy, and mutant history. 

“Lots of our students go on to work in the mutant rights field, or in social services.” Ororo explained, coming to a display case that sat in the front atrium. “Hank was even at Capitol Hill for a while, before settling back here to be our head physician.” 

Sure enough, there was a picture of the blue furred mutant stuffed into a suit and shaking hands with a former president. Lane snorted at the sight and turned back to their guide. 

“The ones who don’t become X-Men, you mean.” 

Ororo chuckled. “Something like that. Some of us feel a bit more of a pull to a direct route of action, and use our gifts to help achieve that.” 

“You guys should put that on your brochure,” Lane muttered. “Career choices include politician or superhero, both equally dangerous.” 

“I can see why you and Wade are friends.” 

Ororo finished the tour in front of the large staircase that Lane recognized as the one leading back to the staff hall. The staircase that Wade Wilson was now sliding down the banister of - the leather of his suit producing an ungodly squealing noise as he did so. He swung his legs over and landed with a flourish,

“There you are! I was worried you’d already fled the country.”

“Just giving them the tour.” Ororo responded, turning her back to Wade and addressing Lane. “My class starts in five, but I’m right down the hall if you need anything, and if I’m ever not there then you can find me in my office.” 

Ororo turned on her heel and waved as she departed down one of the long hallways. People smiled at her as she passed, greeting her with ‘Hello Ms. Munroe!’ and she in turn greeted them all by name. Lane stared after her until she disappeared past the corner. A strange feeling had settled into Lane’s gut and a weight had appeared on their chest. Not jealousy, not quite, but...longing? That was new, and more than slightly uncomfortable. 

Their stomach growled loudly, loud enough to be heard through the din of passing students. Wade clapped their shoulder, the sudden movement making Lane jump. If either Wade or Cable noticed then they didn’t call attention to it. 

“Last one to the kitchen has to be in a bad franchise sequel!” He called, tearing off into the hallway and nearly mowing down a cluster of children. 

“C’mon,” Cable sighed, casually walking after the merc like he did this everyday. Which knowing Wade, he probably did. “He keeps his poptarts hidden in the back kitchen.” 


	3. Chapter 3

The first bite of poptart passed Lane’s lips tastelessly. They were on too high alert to appreciate the sugary sweetness of the pastry, following the motions of eating by mirroring Wade. Their eyes darted to the doorway everytime a figure passed, having to resist the urge to jump every time a voice called out from down the hall. The opposite wall was covered in windows, a sliding door leading out to Xavier’s back lawn, and even the passing bodies outside made Lane uneasy. 

Wade was sitting on the counter, legs swinging back and forth, the bottom half of his mask pulled up so he could stuff his third poptart in his mouth. Lane noticed that he only fully took it off in private, but didn’t press the issue. Not like they had any room to talk in their current, body-hiding ensemble. 

“And I ask the guy, ‘well excuse me, who's swords are sticking out of who?’ Long story short, always invest in a label maker.”

“Or just stop throwing your swords like boomerangs.” Cable muttered. He had opted for a granola bar in lieu of a poptart, chewing sparsely while leaning against the kitchen island that was adjacent to the countertop where Wade sat. Lane hadn’t failed to notice how he kept glancing in their direction, his one cybernetic eye occasionally glowing orange.

“Or stop being a killjoy.” Wade shot back, spraying crumbs all over the front of his suit. 

Another group passed the kitchen in a stampede of noise, clearly excited to be out of class and free to do...whatever teenagers did. Or, scratch that, whatever super-powered mutant teenagers did. 

The one that caught Lane’s eye in particular was a blonde teen holding something brightly sparking in her fingers. Half of the group was nudging her, egging her on with a chorus of  _ ‘C’mon Boom-Boom, show us!’  _ \- the other half chiding her with ‘ _ Tabby, stooop, you’re going to get us in trouble.’  _

The spark in her fingers had grown to the size of a marble; Lane swallowed as the blonde tossed it between her hands, weaving it in and out of her fingers like a magic trick. Then, just like a magic trick, she snapped and it burst into a spray of golden light with a loud _ pop _ like an overinflated balloon. 

“No powers in the house,” Cable barked at them as they quickly scurried down another hallway and out of sight in a rush of footfalls and laughter. 

“Unless it’s in Scott’s room!” Wade added. “Anyways, like I was saying, when it comes to gear, you gotta have it all labeled. Right, Lane?” He turned only to find an empty spot where his friend had been moments before. “...Lane?”

Had Lane heard him, they would have agreed that yes, it did seem like a good idea to invest in a label maker, but also might be worth considering Cable’s advice to stop throwing his swords in the first place. However, his voice was lost to them as they ran out of the kitchen and threw open the glass door with enough force to leave it shattered in its frame. They’d feel guilty about that later, but it was the furthest thing from their mind right now. 

Lane’s legs moved of their own accord, alarm bells going off in their brain along with a slow-mo replay of the blonde girl snapping her fingers and the sound of an explosion. It sounded so much louder in Lane’s head, louder and somehow close enough to make their armour sizzle from the impact. They couldn’t breathe, the air was getting too hot, more explosions incoming from all around them and  _ goddamnit where was the extraction point?  _

* * *

_ A helicopter flew overhead - Lane’s ride. Tucking the case tighter under their arm, they sprinted amidst the fire and turmoil that surrounded them. There was a telltale displacement of air and another explosion of an RPG missile striking the ground not twenty feet from Lane’s path. Don’t stop, only a few more yards to go, less than that as the helicopter dropped its ladder like waiting arms to deliver Lane to safety. Had anyone else made it out? Did it matter? No, not really, not when Lane had the objective tucked under their arm; everything else was just collateral damage. Except now they  _ couldn’t _ feel it under their arm, and the air had turned cold and the ground was wet and muddy under their feet and - _

* * *

Lane had stopped running now, blinking hard and looking around to see... the wide green lawn of Xavier’s stretching out all around them. Trees swaying, a flock of birds flying in a V formation overhead, the air cold as Lane sucked in a breath and tried to calm the staccato heartbeat in their chest. Their legs ached - how long had they been running? - and looking around they realized that they were far from the kitchen where they had only been moments before. Hell, they weren’t even on the same side of the house as before. 

“Shit,” Lane cursed, shaking their head and turning, trying to distinguish where Wade or Cable had gone. Or, rather, where they had ended up. An electric panic was beginning to prickle its way up their spine; had anyone gotten hurt? There was nobody else around, nobody following, but Lane couldn’t say whether or not that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

Lane wiggled their toes and grimaced; their socks were wet. No other option than to start walking - and so they did, towards the school and trying to keep their head down as they trudged to the gardens that surrounded the proximity of the building. As they approached, Lane could see another handful of students standing in front of various plants and bushes, most if not all of them having an easel nearby and a paintbrush in hand. Some look more focused than others, and more than a few snapped their heads up as Lane came closer.  _ Retreat, retreat! _

“Lane?” A deep timbred, Russian accented voice asked. “Are you alright?”

Shit. Of all the people, why was it that whenever shit went wrong, it always had to be in front of Piotr Rasputin and all his shiny, metal glory? Sure enough, Lane turned and their stomach tightened into a knot. He was dressed in a pared-down version of his uniform and was carrying a canvas that he handed off to another student.

“Oh,” Lane stumbled, realizing that he was waiting for an answer, then quickly made up a lie. “Ah, yeah. Yeah! I’m good.  _ Super  _ good. What’re you ah, doing out here?” 

“Teaching.” He answered. “Art class.” 

“Ah, right right. Cool.” Lane nodded, clearing their throat and trying to be as casual as possible. Their heart had started to race again. “Cool...beans.”

“I apologize I could not see your exit from Medbay,” Piotr said just as the silence between the two was beginning to become awkward. “Classes became hectic.” 

“No no, I completely understand. Looks like you got your hands full.” 

Lane leaned out and looked past Piotr’s mountainous form to glance over his class. The majority seemed to be concentrating on their canvases, but a few continued to stare before quickly averting their gaze as Lane’s eyes passed over them. 

“They painted flowers at beginning of semester, now they are painting again to see change in season’s light and color.” Piotr explained, following Lane’s line of sight and turning to face his students. “Muted palettes, heavier shadows.” 

“Sounds like good practice.” 

“ _ Da.”  _ Piotr’s expression had softened. “They are good kids, I learn much from them.” 

He turned back to face Lane; the softness on his metallic features was still there, and it kicked up a fluttering in Lane’s stomach that they quickly swallowed and padlocked deep in their gut. Still, when he smiled down at them, it took Lane a second to feel the ground under their feet. 

“So, you have decided to stay?” He asked. “Here at Xavier’s?” 

“Ah, yeah. I think that the Professor can really help me.” Lane frowned slightly, creasing their brow as they were reminded of what had transpired not five minutes earlier. “All things considered.” 

Piotr opened his mouth to say something when there was a  _ fwoomph  _ and a flash of red landing in one of the dead rose bushes that a student had been painting in front of. 

“Son of a -” Wade groaned, rolling out in a mess of limbs and thorns and getting to his feet unceremoniously. “Bitch.” 

“Wade, language.” Piotr said, looking equal parts bewildered and frustrated with Wade’s sudden appearance. “What is meaning of this?”

Wade brushed past Piotr and his admonishments and made a beeline for Lane, his mouth running at a mile a minute. “Thought you had hit the road for good - why’d you run off like that? - we were looking everywhere for your milky-way ass!” 

“I’m fine, I’m…” Lane froze, the last bits of their earlier panic fleeing to make way for a new sensation: dread. They looked back to Piotr to see the warmth in his expression all but drained and replaced with a lowered brow and a frown curled on his lips. Somehow, that felt even worse than seeing Cable rounding on the edge of the garden with the Professor and Scott Summers beside him. 

“Fine.” 


End file.
